Ninth street Espresso, East Village New York, Friday 25 March 2011


The coffee shop on Tomkinson’s square played rock. Heavy metal. The sun was shining,
The woman at the counter did not smile, it was refreshing, like a café in Berlin. “all our coffees have 3 shots” she declared after I hesitantly tried to explain that I wanted strong but milky.
They served melty cookies. We ate two peanut butter ones and one ginger one. They were a centimeter thick, crunchy on the outside and gooie in the middle.
I looked at the cover of the New York Times; “Lybian Rebels Sweeping Westwards” I thought about reading it and about the size and complexity of the world for a couple of seconds.
I cannot explain or justify my excitement and enthusiasm for a good coffee shop. The consideration that goes into this complete somatic experience. The precise artistry of a barrista, the choice of music, the character of the staff and their choice of dress, we have entered into a different world.
The interior design consisted of tall stools sat by a high oak counter.
Small, black, white, wood, clean glass, simple.
No added chocolate sprinkle or frothing cream. Just basic quality. I believe in this.
We talked about our connection, about sexual encounters, about neediness, attraction, opening up and pushing away.
Zooming into the taste and texture of the rich peanut cookie and 3 shot capuchino. Dark, complex, strong, a bit violent and intense.
A round deep thing.
My friend is so full of life, so open and touched by joy and sorrow. I love how he feels his rage and joy, his intense passion. I connect to it in a more quiet way. He reminds me about not doing stuff because we should, not being rushed, taking up time and space. His courage to demand to be seen and take peoples time inspires me. Because he is enough, because I am enough, because we are enough.